The Destruction of Renne
by TheManWhore
Summary: Renne is a land of the wealthy and fortunate - both Gods and Mortals thrive on its bounties. However, when a fiery man at the peak of his life falls for the bane of the Gods, ancient evil is awakened to threaten their love. AkuRoku, other pairs, citrus.
1. 1: Of Squires, Nobles, and Goddesses

**Hello, all! So I've read yaoi for just about...ever, now. And I'm going to try my best to write something and actually **_**finish**_** it! So I've started this story based on an idea I had long ago for an AkuRoku fanfiction. I'm a fantasy writer, and I've always wanted to incorporate fanfiction, fantasy, and yaoi all in one - so here I am. I plan on this story being pretty large, so I'll definitely include characters from both Kingdom Hearts, and even a few from Final Fantasy. And since it's yaoi, there will be many pairings to come aside from simply AkuRoku. **

**I know this chapter is kind of short, and I apologize - I just wanted to post something before I fell asleep (it's 1:20 AM here). So... think of this as a prologue, if you will. ALSO! I did not take much time to edit this. Again, I just wanted to hurry and finish the last part so I could post it. I ****guarantee**** that I will repost an edited version of this chapter... so think of this not **_**only**_** as a prologue of sorts, but also a 'rough draft'. ALSO! I apologize for the scene changes; I got bored staying in one place for too long, and this is just the prologue. The next installment will just focus on one character, since a little background will be given for all three in this chapter here. Anyway. I talk way too much. On to the story :p**

**Pairings: AkuRoku, Zemyx, RiSo (now **_**that**_** was a hard name to think of), and probably some Cleon. All of that will be in the future, though. Hopefully my interest in writing this will last 'till then. It should ;)**

**!WARNING!**

*** Story contains yaoi, AKA boy-on-boy love. AKA homosexual. AKA **_**gay**_**. If this offends you, flee. If you even **_**try**_** to flame this story, I won't have it. Honestly, there are about a billion other yaoi stories you could pick on. I'm just sayin'.**

*** Story contains OOC's. Not a lot, but some nonetheless. Some people are bothered with it, but I don't see how you could be.**

*** RATED M for yaoi and future lemon.**

**Dramatis Personae: All persons shown and/or mentioned in this chapter.** (Look at me, using a fancy Latin phrase! **:D**)

Roxas Golding – _Golden-haired noble with an affinity to magic and the Divine.  
><em>Axel Ward – _Vibrant and slender squire – confident in his abilities and his appearance.  
><em>Yuffie Bennet – _Axel's senior squire; small in stature yet massive in spirit._  
>Ventus Golding – <em>Roxas' younger twin brother.<em>  
>Leon – <em>Lorellian knight. Guides both Yuffie and Axel in the pursuit of Knight-hood.<em>  
>Cloud Golding – <em>Father of Roxas and Ventus. Head of the Golding family in Lorellia.<em>  
>Master Ansem – <em>Wise and old sorcerer and master to Roxas.<em>  
>Aerith – <em>Goddess of Knowledge, and keeper of the Sacred Tomes.<em>  
>Jhadia – <em>Raven-haired Goddess of Stars, also worshipped as a deity of great Beauty.<br>_Jenova – _Queen of the Gods of Renne, and the Goddess of Peace._

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><p><em>Journal of Aerith, Goddess of Knowledge<em>  
><em>78th day of our Third-Age, the Age of Pestilence<em>  
><em>Written in the Library of Renne<em>

_The world wasn't what it always was. Centuries ago, everyone in the mortal realm worshipped the immortal gods that ruled over the elements of life. Many were touched by magic, and could command its awe-some presence to perform incredible feats. Yes, back then, the mortals were much more open-minded._

_Then, it was called the Second-Age; the age of time when both mortals and immortals alike flourished. The Age of Prosperity. It was then when all beings basked in the wealth and vigor of the Golden Suns. But we immortals were ignorant in our splendor; we had forgotten old deities – old spirits – that we had imprisoned. And our ignorance, as can be expected, brought about our downfall._

_Even now, I write in this journal in the confines of one of one of the Gods' last, hidden sanctuaries – the Renne Library, deep underground and hidden from those that seek to hunt us out._

_I feel that, despite the world being plunged into darkness, it is high time to retell the accounts of the last moments of the Second Age. And, as with many of what mortals would deem fairytales, it starts with a boy. . ._

* * *

><p>Roxas Golding was fed up with training. His thin muscles hurt from holding the sword that was much too heavy for his form. His brain hurt from cramming in the Old Tongue used by magicians like him. His soul was <em>exhausted<em> from gathering up _every. _

_Single._

_Amount. _

_Of magic._

_He could._

Sure, he knew what training could bring; he could recite his master's lecture on the importance of practice by heart. How it would make him better at fencing; how he could read ancient scrolls and books written in the old tongue; how he could reach his full magical potential. Of course, the last one was what his resident teacher, Ansem the Wise, focused on. Ever since toddler Roxas developed a rare magical aura of bright gold, the old wizard had attached himself to him and the Golding family. He was always urging Roxas to push his abilities to the limits so that he could grow his skill, and to take up any and all areas of study so that his mind could grow to accommodate his power. Ansem cared.

_Roxas_ didn't care.

One of the most influential noble families in the metropolis of Lorellia, the Golding family was undoubtedly the richest – more so than even the proud monarchs who ruled the affluent land. Celebrated for their wealth and deep family connections with royal-blooded lines, the Goldings not only hailed from Lorellia, but also boasted royal blood of several surrounding provinces. They were not the current ruling house in Lorellia, but because of the gravity of their mere family name, they were the unofficial sovereigns of the region.

Branched off into different subdivisions like most other noble-families, Roxas Golding, along with his brother Ventus and father Cloud, were the direct offsprings of the pure-blooded Lorellian Goldings. Living in the Golding Estate, their private property covered three city blocks, and was home to multiple courtyards, menageries, towers, granaries, gardens, and even a waterfall and barracks.

With an irritated sigh, the youngest Golding briskly walked across the entry-courtyard of his family's estate. A large plot of yard filled with gardened flowers, bushes, and grass was also home to an extravagant fountain in the center. Mid-spring blessed the entire Golding estate with vibrant colors and heavenly scents.

Roxas heaved open the large door leading into the Golding Estate. For him, thank the Gods, it was the large door that lead _out_ of the Golding Estate. The young man was nearing adult-hood at the age of nineteen, though his small height and undeniably gorgeous and flawless features made him appear as a teen-aged boy. His hair was golden in color (a trait passed down by all Golding men), shining in the sunlight, and tousled carelessly on his head.

"Hey!" A voice called from behind him, attempting to halt the golden-haired teen from stomping off into the busy city streets. Roxas paused, letting out a barely-audible sigh. '_Now what?'_

"What do you think you're doing, Roxy?" Roxas' identical twin asked in a tone that suggested he knew all too well what Roxas was up to. The older Golding twin looked very much like his counterpart, save a few subtle facial differences, and a more muscled form.

"Don't call me that, Ventus!" Roxas snapped, leaning his head towards his twin brother behind him. "I'm going out," Roxas stated as if it were obvious.

A frown. "What's happened _this_ time, Roxas?"

"Nothing. I'm not a child – it's not required of me to have a reason to leave my estate."

Ventus snorted. "You mean _Father's_ estate. Just because you're next in line to inherit it doesn't mean it's yours _now_."

Roxas shrugged grudgingly, trying his best not to lose patience. He _needed_ to get out. Yelling would only draw his father's attention, and afflict him with a guilty conscience for raising his voice at his twin. "I'm going anyway."

"Alright, _fine_, but I'm not covering for you again," Ventus warned, the renowned Golding family frown taking root on his mouth, "If Master Ansem finds out you left without his permission, you're on your own with the excuses."

"H-He's asleep," Roxas lied, hoping to the Gods that his brother wouldn't see past it. Ventus gave a small sigh, making a mental note of how bad a liar his brother was for someone as determined as him. Roxas slammed the door behind him as if he were leaving the place for good. Unknown to his twin Ventus and father Cloud, it was Master Ansem's plan for Roxas to do just that.

* * *

><p>"Wimp!" Yuffie Bennet taunted, rushing towards her opponent with her broad-sword raised high above her head.<p>

With a grunt, Axel Ward rolled to the left. Yuffie's sword hit the patch of dirt where he had just been, mercilessly hacking into the earth. Standing up quickly, Axel seemed to tower over his partner in height – but the fact that she had a weapon that stood high above _his_ head was a little down-grading.

Just a little.

"Woah!" Axel cautioned as he ducked a blow that was directed towards his head. "How you can swing that thing so fast and high with _your_ small arms, I'll never know," Axel muttered to himself, continuing to evade the sword.

"Fight me!" Yuffie commanded, taking another swing at Axel, who was now to her right. Stepping backwards, Axel easily missed the deadly steel. It was known to both of them that Axel's lean form granted him dexterity and speed, and his plan was to either regain his sword, or tire the petite warrior out until she could swing her large blade no more.

"Give me back my sword, and I'll fight," Axel calmly challenged.

Pausing for the first time in nearly ten minutes, Yuffie let out an irritated _huff_, and unstrapped the sword she had stolen from the red-head… or at least, as she saw it, the sword she had rightfully won after disarming Axel.

Axel caught the blade by its hilt in midair, swirling it in his hand a few times to adjust his hold on it. This time, when Yuffie charged with her usual cry, Axel easily parried her sword. With a surprised yelp, the girl's weapon was thrown far away from her reach, landing with a loud _thud!_ on the dirt. It was pleasantly ironic, and Axel's brilliant grin applauded that fact.

"No fair!" she tried, backing away from her opponent.

Axel's smile fell quickly, replaced by a mocking frown. "So it's okay if _you_ disarm _me_, but not the other way around?"

Taking a step towards the unarmed girl, the red-head quickly realized it was a mistake when she reached for something inside her left sleeve. _Damn it,_ he mentally cursed himself, _I should've expected that._

The red-head barely had enough time to dodge three deadly knives that had been thrown right at his head. With deadly precision and a speed that even Axel could not match, the three throwing-knives hit the barracks behind the red-head, suspended in the air as they stuck to the wall.

"Alright, alright," a voice sounded from a few yards away. "Fight's over – stalemate. I said no ranged weapons were allowed," the person declared.

"_WHAT?"_

"Yuffie, you were disarmed, and you pulled out three knives…" Sir Leon began, before being interrupted.

"So? He dodged them! _Rematch!"_ The incredulous squire-girl demanded.

The red-headed squire narrowed his eyes at her. "You want to see me killed," he accused.

Crossing her arms in front of her armored chest, Yuffie gave out a very feminine _hmph!_

"Just maimed!" She shot back. "You _lost_ anyway!"

"I didn't lose!" Axel started, "Leon called it a tie!"

"Enough!" Leon sighed, gripping the bridge of his nose with his fingers, eyes shut determinedly. "It's not even noon, and you two have already given me a headache," he declared.

"She started it."

"He started it," the two squires said at once, before looking at each other. Both tried to suppress their laughter.

"You two are going to be the death of me," Leon complained, shaking his head as he walked away. He hadn't gone far before yelling over his shoulder. "Yuffie – you're coming with me to on patrol duty – Orchid District."

Glancing back at his two squires, he continued, "And Axel: check on the armor at _Iron-Greaves Smithing _down in the market."

Yuffie stuck her tongue out at the red-head, Axel's sigh not far behind. He and Yuffie had been squires for a long time now, and it always seemed like Axel got sent on the errands.

"Seeya, Axie," Yuffie taunted, shouldering her broadsword as she walked behind Leon towards the barracks.

Axel, walking over to the nearest equipment rack, took off his light-armored plating, revealing a simple tunic and pants that complimented his physique. Shaking his hair free of sweat with a damp washrag, he set out towards Lorellia's enormous marketplace, coins jiggling in his pockets, and a tune being whistled from his careless lips. Little did he know that he would soon be _thankful_ that he was sent on an errand into the marketplace that day.

* * *

><p>A loud crash sounded above me. The entire room began to shake.<p>

Books scattered to the ground, shoved off of the trembling desk as I braced myself. The bookshelves around me rattled, and it was some time before I could gather my thoughts back to the present long enough to realize what was happening.

We had been hit with another force of power.

"_Our protective wards won't hold for long!_" I heard Jhadia scream at someone from the floor above me. The room still trembling, I hastily grabbed my journal and made for the stairway.

"Who did it this time!" I shouted over the rumble of power and the _clash_'s and _bang_'s of objects being upset to the stone floor.

Jhadia turned to me, her dark silk-garments bunched in her hands so that she could move hastily without tripping on them; even now I was stunned by her beauty. Her hair, black as midnight yet luminous like the stars, flowed down her back and chest, beautiful even as the ground shuffled around it.

"Does it matter!" She shouted back, being forced to grab onto a nearby bookshelf as the ground shook even more violently than before. I was thrown to the ground, my head hitting the stone floor hard. My vision quickly started to decline. We might've been gods, but that doesn't mean we were impervious to pain or concussions.

* * *

><p><em>I must end Aerith's tale for now, for Jenova has already called upon my magic to re-fortify the wards around the Library. Aerith no doubt begin to write this tale soon again, though it will be no easy feat, considering how most of her and all of our time will be spent cleaning up this ruined library, and defending it as our last sanctuary against our enemies.<em>

_May the White Lady bless us all._

* * *

><p><strong>So yeah, review and tell me what you think ;P<strong>

**Like I said, I'll have a revised version of this chapter up soon. Next chapter is already in the works. Hope you liked?**

**Thanks!**

**P.S. I just realized that I sound like a giddy teen-aged girl. Damn you, yaoi. You make me squee.**


	2. 2: The Sepulcher of Andromeda

**So hey everyone! Here's the next chapter for the story. This particular chapter is not very focused upon Axel and Roxas, but is more Jenova-centric. The yaoi will come in time, I promise! And eventually the chapters will consist mostly of Axel and Roxas' tale, once it gets off to a start.**

**P.S. - My apologies that I haven't replied to any reviews or subscriptions yet... that will change as of now.**

**~DISCLAIMER~  
>I do not own Kingdom Hearts or Final Fantasy, their characters included. Or Axel and Roxas. Honestly, it would be <em>way<em> too hard fighting all the rabid yaoi fangirls out there for the rights. I'd just rather let someone else bother with that, 'cause I know the yaoi would be made official regardless of which one of us yaoi-fans got them -)**

**WARNING  
>Rated 'M' for language, yaoi, and future lemon.<strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 1 ~ The Departure of Lorellia | The Sepulcher of Andromeda<strong>_

* * *

><p><strong>Dramatis Personae: All <strong>(important) **persons shown and/or mentioned in this chapter.**

Roxas Golding – _Golden-haired noble with an affinity to magic and the Divine.  
><em>Axel Ward – _Vibrant and athletic squire – confident in his abilities and his appearance.  
><em>Jenova – _Creator Goddess. Superior of the military force of the Gods of Renne. Goddess of battle, and protector of peace.  
><em>Aerith – _Goddess of Knowledge and caretaker of the Renne Library. Guardian, alongside the spirit of Andromeda, of the 'Tomes of Creation.'  
><em>Andromeda – _Blood-sister of Jenova, born from Chaos. Goddess of Fire and Passion. Her spirit lives as the Twin Suns of Renne. Deceased._  
>Master Ansem – <em>Wise and old sorcerer and master to Roxas. Member of a hidden guild of powerful mages.<em>

* * *

><p>Despite the spring season, the heat of the Golden Suns radiated off the paved streets of Lorellia. The Orchid District of the city was home to the richest nobles in the province – its streets were lined with gardens, statues, and fountains. Plazas were frequent, featuring victory monuments or shaded pavilions. Only extravagantly dressed men and women, along with the occasional (but still well-garbed) servant, paraded through the streets. The carriages were made of the finest mahogany and rosewood, polished to shine in the light of day, and the pure-bred horses trotted lazily.<p>

Roxas hated it.

Sure, he enjoyed living in luxury, but the nobles of Lorellia, it seemed, were trapped. They had been tripped into ruts lied down for them by their age-old families and barred in by a need to uphold their gallant positions in the eyes of the monarchs. The Golding family was far from this description, for they held a kindled passion – an ember of longing – that other Lorellian elite did not. Roxas' passion for adventure, however, burned brightly in him.

Master Ansem the Wise knew this, and he pitied the golden-haired boy who was always told to act, speak, and move a certain way. And that is why, when Master Ansem was contacted by his guild of mages about the growing matter at hand, he concluded that Roxas would travel to the meeting-place of the guild himself as Ansem's apprentice and representative. It was at least something to get Roxas out of the Golding Estate.

The plan of Roxas leaving, however, was to be concealed from Cloud – Roxas' father. The man, in his middle ages yet still bearing the fit body he boasted in his younger years, was always concerned for his sons' well-being, and no doubt would have asked too many questions about Roxas' departure should it have been confided to him. Roxas' destination, and the reason for travelling to it, was top secret – and Master Ansem had drilled that in to Roxas' head a month prior to his journey.

With an inward sigh of relief, Roxas walked through the open gate that separated the Orchid District from the Upper Market District – the section of Lorellia's massive marketplace that bore shops and stalls more suited for its rich neighbors.

"Furniture! _Fine_ furniture, carved by Elven craftsmen from the Eastern Forests!"

"Premium venison! Sold by the pound!"

"Come browse _Clearwater's Garments_ for all your clothing needs! Ball-gowns, robes, and suits!"

The shouting and bustle of the market stretched across many blocks of city streets. It took skill to navigate the crowds, and great perception to hold a conversation without being distracted by the cries of vendors and patrons. Walking into the center of the Upper Market, Roxas was suddenly stopped amidst the crowd of people. It felt like someone was following him.

Glancing nonchalantly behind him, Roxas didn't see anything out of the ordinary – just a crowd of people bustling around him.

A hand grabbed his shoulder. It abruptly spun him around.

Disoriented by his handling, and blinded by the two suns glaring down at him from the east, Roxas raised a hand to shade his eyes. Fury at being controlled rose in him. How _dare_ anyone touch _him_! He would see to it that they were arrested for assault, and whatever else Roxas could think to charge them with.

There was a man before him, much large both in size and height that Roxas. He looked nothing more than a peasant, and how he had found himself in the fortunate marketplace Roxas didn't have time to ponder. The man had a grimy stubble, and it was clear he had neither shaved nor taken some sort of bath in quite some time. He wore the typical garb of a lower-class citizen – torn leather and rags. His arms were bare, showing threatening biceps of formidable size, and many scars.

"You look lost, little feller," the man grinned a sickening smile, his lower-class accent thick and revolting to the young boy.

'_The nerve!_" Roxas thought, "_how could such _filth_ stop a noble boy on the streets!_"

A sudden jolt went through Roxas' body when he realized he was not dressed like a noble. He had left the house in a passable and frilly white shirt, with some old, beat up trousers. He was used to dressing as so when he left the estate without permission, so that he would not be recognized by any of the wealthy he knew. It had never occurred to him before that such outfitting might cause him trouble.

"I-I'm _not_ lost," Roxas protested, trying to shake out of the man's grip on his shoulder. "Get off me!"

Leaning in, the man peered at the boy, his breath vile. "Best be quiet, son. 'Less of course, yer a screamer." The man's grin grew wider at this remark.

Nostrils flaring, Roxas glared up at the man once more. The tightening hold on his shoulder was enough for the boy to act upon. With a sudden cry, Roxas brought his knee up, striking the man bluntly between his legs. As the man lowered to cover up his sensitive area, Roxas brought his left elbow to collide with the man's head, sending the perplexed assailant spinning to the ground.

People around them were now watching the ordeal, gasping as the older man was struck again and again by the enraged boy's feet and knees. Little did they know it was self-defense; all they knew was that a merchant-boy was beating up a helpless and now unconscious older man. As someone stepped in to intervene, Roxas fled down a street, heading south towards the lower market.

"Someone catch that kid!" He heard behind him as he pushed past people, gasps and cries of shock sounding from those he collided with. Glancing behind him, Roxas saw three or four men chasing after him, one with a sort of baton-weapon in his hand. The armed chaser also wore a simple chain-mail armor bearing the emblem of Lorellia – a white hawk on a red background. The city guard.

Roxas darted through the crowd, quickly entering the Lower-Market district. The part of the city most foreign to him, the boy had no idea where to outrun the guard. Thoughts raced in his mind about what would happen if he was caught. He had no choice but to slip into an upcoming alleyway as he entered a large crowd, and a few seconds of heavy breathing determined that he had not been followed – or so he had thought.

After almost a minute of sitting on a large wooden crate and catching his breath, Roxas looked up when he heard footsteps enter the shaded alley. A man, not much older than Roxas himself, stood a few yards away. He was taller than the boy by at least a head-length, and his vibrant red hair stood in spikes behind him, reaching his shoulders. His lean, but obviously well-muscled form was hugged by tight brown pants, and a tan over-shirt, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The leather laces to fasten the V-neck of his shirt were loose, revealing a large portion of his pale chest.

The man stood with his arms crossed, frowning at Roxas as he stopped in his tracks. As Roxas met his eyes, he was mesmerized by their brilliant emerald color. They seemed to _pierce_ his own, and Roxas found himself lost as he stared at the green orbs mindlessly.

"_Hello_?" The man asked again. Roxas blinked.

"What do you want?" Roxas asked. Much to his humiliation, his voice broke in mid-sentence, and he had to clear his throat before continuing.

The tall man smirked at the rosy color on the blonde boy's cheeks and nose. "I saw what you did back there," he began, "and I would've done the same."

The boy blinked again. "You… you would've?"

A nod. "I saw him grab you – and I'm surprised you could take down someone twice your size without as much of a scratch left on you." The man smirked broader as Roxas' face darkened some more.

"Well, you know," Roxas dismissed his compliment with a shrug, "I'm not defenseless."

Emerald eyes twinkled down at him. "So what's a boy like you doing on the streets by yourself?"

The golden-head frowned, suddenly glaring up at the man. "I'm not a _boy_. I'm nineteen years of age. Besides, my business isn't any of _yours_."

The red-head's arms rose in defense, a soft chuckle escaping his chiseled lips. "Geez, relax; I was just making sure he didn't hurt you." He took a step towards Roxas. "So what's your name, Sir 'nineteen-years-of-age'?"

The boy looked away. "Roxas." When he turned back towards the man, he was somewhat startled to be staring at a hand – the red-head had closed the distance between them quickly, his hand outstretched in greeting. His face was beaming.

"Axel."

Not wanting to be rude, Roxas decided it wouldn't _hurt_ to shake the man's hand. When he did, he found himself thinking of the touch. Axel's grip was firm – not like the older man who had threatened Roxas earlier. No, Axel's was firm in a protective way, not in an intimidating or greedy way. His hands were rough, suggesting many days spent gripped around a tool or weapon of some sort. His arms bore many scars, but they could only be noticed upon close inspection. Even his fore-arms sported lean, hard muscle.

"You space out a lot, Roxas." The comment brought Roxas' eyes up to the man's again. Stammering, Roxas let out,

"S-sorry, I got distracted."

"Are you certain you're not lost?" Axel inquired, raising an eyebrow as he looked down into the boy's eyes.

Roxas shrugged, looking down. "Kind of. I need to leave the city, but I don't know of a hidden way out of the outer walls." He glanced back up at Axel.

"Why would a boy like you need to be smuggled out of the city?" the older man asked with a slight frown.

"I'm not a boy!" Roxas defended again, looking back at the ground flustered. "I just need to get out of the city, and I can't do so by any of the gates. It's kind of an importance that I get out undetected by any of the city's guard. Especially after that whole incident."

Raising the same eyebrow again, Axel bit his tongue. Perhaps not revealing that he was, in fact, part of the city guard could let him know more about the boy. And he _certainly_ wouldn't mind getting to know the golden-headed young man.

"Alright, what would you say if I told you I could get you out of the city?"

Roxas looked back up at Axel, his large sapphire eyes hopeful. "Really? You could do that?"

With an open chuckle, the man replied, "Of course! But," he said, his voice dropping to a serious tone, and his eyes bearing into Roxas', "you might want to let go of my hand, unless you want to be seen as intimate with me." The façade of solemnity was broken by the red-head's cocky grin.

Roxas brusquely pulled his hand out of the man's grasp, his face as red as one of the pomegranates sold at the market stalls.

* * *

><p>Aerith walked down a stone corridor. Her chocolate hair was tied up behind her, with thick strands that hung over her face – the bane of her existence when they hung before her eyes when reading. Her pink dress was simple yet elegant, cut down the sides to allow her to walk briskly.<p>

And oh, how often these days she was required to walk briskly.

The walls of the underground corridor were lined with tapestries depicting famous battles of immortals and mortals alike; because of Aerith's age, she had either been in or watched closely every single one. The occasional relic of days long past stood on a pedestal, and every once and a while a padded bench called to her aching feet.

Returning her gaze before her, Aerith suddenly stopped before a pair of great, wooden doors. The iron hinges on the sides ran along the width of the wood, and a massive handle was mounted just beneath an even larger knocker. Reaching her hand out to grasp the knocker, a voice stopped her before she could act.

"Enter, Aerith."

Taking a deep breath, Aerith hesitated before opening the door. Finally, after yet another breath, she pressed down the handle and pushed the large door open.

The room before her was magnificently decorated in white marble and silver accents. The undetectable ceilings were supported by massive columns that stretched so high that they became hazy with mist. The sound of water filled the hall. Wall-fountains, in the shapes of majestic animals or beautiful beings, spilt and poured water into pots, funnels, and pools. Stained glass windows of flowers and elements dominated the upper walls, and though it was still underground, the room was brightly lit as colored rays shone in through the crystal.

The majority of the room's floor was filled with uniform pews – all carved out of a glistening white stone, with gold accents showing scenes of battle, love, and creation. The benches directed Aerith's gaze to the head of the room. There, hovering gracefully above the ground, a large book in her hands, was Jenova.

Jenova - the Queen of the Gods. The mother-goddess. The creator. Firstborn. She was the Justifier of Peace. The White Lady.

She was formless and concrete at the same time; her form was hazy even when looked at with the immortal eyes of a god. Her body did not reflect light, for it was the _source_ of it; beams of pure white light shone from her. Her long hair flowed about her as if underwater, its silver strands glistening like the ocean-surface under the Twin Suns. She was nude and bare, the epitome of purity. Her form was natural and healthy, completely white and without a blemish. She was more beautiful than _any_ of the gods of love or splendor.

But Aerith, of all gods, knew that Jenova was terrible. Jenova held the title of Peace-maker, but she was a goddess of war, and among the most vicious of the immortals – and her extreme power was not raw. It was completely tame, able to be manipulated and formed to Jenova's will. Aerith had seen entire _worlds_ destroyed by the Mother-Goddess. None wanted to oppose Jenova, for she held the gods' and the world of Renne's best interests in her heart, and no one was more kind as she. But Aerith knew that any who _did_ face her openly would not win.

"You act as though you've never seen me before, sister," Jenova greeted, her voice subtle yet superior, easily encompassing the entire room.

Aerith bowed before her queen. "I'm just hesitant with curiosity as to why I was summoned, my Queen. You've bidden me here?"

Jenova, still keeping the tome in her hands, glanced upwards. "That is correct. I trust your concussion is wearing off by now? And your wounds are healed?"

The brunette goddess nodded, striding down the aisle to meet Jenova. The Justifier of Peace continued. "Exasperation grows in our enemies', Aerith," Jenova spoke, her tone and expression suddenly grave. "This ancient library is nothing more than a sanctuary of knowledge – not a fortress for Gods. It can't – _won't_ – survive another siege."

A small smile curved Aerith's plump lips upwards. "You are correct about it being a sanctuary of knowledge, my Queen. This library has been protected by the gods of knowledge for millennia. You know this."

Jenova discharged Aerith's claim by returning her gaze to the book she was reading – now uninterested in its texts. "Hardly. My expertise lie in war, Aerith; not knowledge or libraries."

"This library is merely a _door_ into one of the most ancient structures since you helped create this world, Jenova," Aerith snapped, her temper beginning to diminish. "The _Sepulcher of Andromeda_ lay beneath this library." Suddenly the light in the room ceased to exist: a sudden testament of Jenova's surprise and disapproving. Darkness filled the air, and despite the suddenness of the action, Aerith remained unmoved. Her eyes fixed on Jenova's. Aerith endured. "Your sister died there. Her remaining life-force is what protects the tomb from detection."

Jenova raised a curious eyebrow. A gray light seeped back in the room through the stained-glass windows, leaving it in a shadowy haze – yet lighter than before. "Apparently from my own eyes, as well." Lifting the her hands held up, the object rose through the air to one of the many bookshelves to find its place, Jenova effortlessly commanding it with the smallest part of her brain. "And _what_, dear Granddaughter, lay in the sepulcher? _Besides_ my sister?"

Aerith rose her chin up, confident in her answer. "The _Tomes of Creation_."

* * *

><p>"I don't see why I have to go in <em>there<em>," Roxas frowned disapprovingly as he eyed the gaping hole before him. "There's no way that can be sanitary." The golden-haired stood in a back alleyway, in between a tall row of buildings and a portion of the city's thick walls. Axel had led them to the location, and he seemed confidant enough that no one was around watching two boys crawl into the sewer.

Roxas wasn't so confident.

Axel shrugged. "They're sewers, Roxas. Of _course_ they're not sanitary. The city's separated by noble and peasantry class, but at the end of the day," Axel flourished his hands as if presenting the reeking hole as a gift to the blond boy, "everyone's waste is the same." Roxas grimaced.

"You're disgusting."

The red-head grinned. "This is the only way past the city-guards. In we go." With that, he lunged for Roxas' hand, and much to the boy's chagrin and flushing face, pulled him close to him. Pressed up against Axel, Roxas tried to get out of the older man's hold.

"What the _hell are you doing_?" The boy demanded. Instead of being released or even replied to, Roxas was lifted onto Axel's back as the athletic red-head carried him easily as they descended into the darkness underneath Lorellia.

Sewers, Roxas concluded, were utterly revolting. The mere thought of being in them was enough for Roxas to want to stop Axel and return to his estate. He longed for the perfume smell of the mid-spring flowers of his gardens. But alas, he found himself leaving his home - something he had never done before. And better yet, he was departing while walking through other peoples' shit. The underground vaults bore two walkways separated by a flowing river of yuck, corrupting the entire cavernous tunnels with fumes that nearly burned the boy's eyebrows off.

"By the _Gods_," The blond exclaimed, forgetting his anger at Axel as he tried his best hold on and cover his face at the same time. "White Lady save me," he groaned. His eyes stung.

"It's not the Golding Estate," Axel referred to Roxas' home, oblivious to the irony of it, "but it dumps out into a resevoir about a mile away from the city walls. There's a way out of there that goes back up to fresh air. Only an hours walk," he added with a pessimistic grin.

"You mean ride," Roxas couldn't help but point out, the light humor bringing him away from the stink around him for a moment. Axel frowned.

"Smart-ass."

Roxas clung to Axel, his arms snaking around the man's neck and shoulders. The Golding heir was _not_ going to walk in sludge. He was quite safe and quite content where he was. Roxas gave up covering his face with his now-busy hands, and pressed his head into the red-head's shoulder instead, burying his nose into the red-head.

Axel smelled like cinnamon.

* * *

><p>The Sepulcher of Andromeda was indeed one of the most revered and hidden locations in all of mortal <em>and<em> immortal Renne. It was a sanctuary. A temple.

A tomb.

Standing in the temple of the Library of Renne, Aerith revealed the hidden passageway that led in a downwards spiral to the sepulcher. As the knowledge-goddess and Jenova descended the spiral staircase even deeper underground, memories came flooding back to them: memories of a war: memories of a lost battle: memories of a vibrant, young red-head, radiating happiness, and always with a grin upon her face.

Andromeda was the sister, by blood, of Jenova – though she was much younger than the White Lady. The worlds and all of their inhabitants had settled and were living life by the time a new lifeform sprang from the depths of eternal Chaos. Her birth surprised all gods, especially Jenova: the only other being to ever be born from the black abyss.

She learned in luxury and was trained by the best - her education of the worlds becoming Jenova's top priority for many centuries. The battle-goddess herself taught Andromeda the ways of war, but also drilled into her mind the honor in upholding peace and prosperity of mortal and immortal lands. In battle, Andromeda fought with dual swords that gleamed brightly with enchanted fire, burning her foes and rising to fame as the bane of the goddess' enemies. She was the embodiment of fiery passion, always speaking out and defending what she believed in – which was, thanks to Jenova's counsel and teachings, always the _right_ thing.

When Andromeda died, it was by sacrifice – sacrifice to save the entirety of her brethren from the Elementals. The bane of the gods and their endless nemeses, the five elementals were the opposite to the gods of the universe; they valued their own power above all else, and sought to enslave both the gods and the mortals to suit their own needs, and to run a totalitarian rule. During the last battle against the Elementals - the very battle that would determine the outcome of the entire war - Andromeda held off the four titans. It wasn't until the fifth and most powerful Elemental entered the battle that there was no hope for her survival. The gods, however, had been given time to suppress the distracted Elementals and return them to Chaos. Andromeda, however, was already fading at that point.

It was a timeless tale, known by all the gods, whether they were present or not at the legendary battle. To mortals, the story was the myth of how their orbs of fire in the sky came to be. It was just before Andromeda's spirit drifted into nothingness that Jenova captured her essence, which had been collected in her eyes. Jenova cast them upwards towards the highest heavens, farther than any mortal or god could ever hope to go, and it was then that the land was illuminated by massive orbs of fire: the eyes of Andromeda, forever watching over the universe. The Twin Suns.

"It has been many millennia," Jenova confessed as her and Aerith suddenly came to a landing on the stairway. A large but humble wooden door stood before the two goddesses. "I had forgotten about the burial place of my sister's physical body."

Aerith, unsure of what to say, glanced at her grandmother. "She died valiantly - we couldn't have won the battle if it weren't for her. Surely you remember?"

"Of _course_ I remember! Every time I see the Twin Suns over Renne I remember putting them there. I remember _why_ I put them there," Jenova snapped. She was the oldest being in the universe, and the most powerful - yet even her own family doubted the strength of memory and sanity. Silver hair was now floating in the still-air, and the agitated goddess hovered slightly off the stone floor.

The Goddess of Knowledge nodded silently, not wanting to provoke the woman any further. Reaching a hand out, she muttered the spell of entrance into the sepulcher. A green light encompassed itself in a field around the wooden door, and it radiated intentsely before diminishing with a small moan of magic. With a glance of her eyes, Aerith unlatched the brass handle, and the door was pushed open to reveal the Sepulcher of Andromeda...

The room was small. Tiny, compared to the great temple the two had just come from.

In the center of the tomb was an ornately carved sarcophagus made of a rose-colored stone. Sitting upon a stage-like pedestal, the coffin was solemn as Jenova and Aerith were hit with a wave of musky scent. It was rare for a god to die, and even after they did their spirit forever protected that which they stood for in life - in Andromeda's case, her spirit shone in the sky as beacons of passion and fire. There was no doubt in Jenova's mind that somehow, Andromeda's spirit was watching them even as they were so far beneath the view of the twin orbs. The coffin was adorned with golden accents portraying the very battle that cost Andromeda her life – the largest scene was on the top of the casket, and showed the goddess' heroic sacrifice. Her swords clattered to the ground, Andromeda stood in a glorifying majesty as massive rays of power surged from her hands. Ambient lighting of just two torches in the room, on either side of the coffin, cast the tomb in a warm glow.

Jenova's eyes rose from the casket as the women walked hesitantly into the crypt. Directly opposite her, covering a large portion of the catacomb wall, was a painting.

The painting showed a mourning woman. Clad in an supple tunic of white silk secured with golden rope, the woman held a gray sash before her as she hung her head, her emerald eyes hidden by long lashes and falling tears. Crimson hair the color of boiling lava was held in a loose bun, with many strands falling in and around the woman's magnificently beautiful face. A golden band sat atop her head, reflecting brightly in the sunlight.

"She was beautiful," Jenova remarked, full of remorse as she stare at the portrait. The Queen of the gods - one of the most powerful beings in the universe - was experiencing sadness. Though she would never admit it, the regret of the battle rose in her like wildfire. The passion of Andromeda's legacy burned brightly within her, confusing her emotions and causing her ancient mind to rend out of focus.

Directly beneath the large painting was a simple, wooden table as long as the goddesses were tall. Laid out on the table were four books. Each were the same size, so large that the women could open one and support it with their own arms. The tomes were bound with black leather, and their pages were revealed through the sides to be aged and yellow. Each book bore a large symbol atop its cover – the only thing to distinguish between the four by outer appearance.

Jenova was speechless. Even she could not remember the number of years – _eons_ – it had been since she first helped write the four books, in collaboration with the three other elite of the immortal race. She had thought them to be gone; disappeared and forgotten into the depths of nothing.

Yes, she knew their power. They were the very workings that instructed the four first-born to create the universe. If she could go back in time, Jenova would have thrown the four books into Chaos without a second consideration, permanently eliminating their power and existence from the universe. She would have done this regardless of what anyone said or thought, for she was the Justifier of Peace, and would do anything to uphold such a blessing in the worlds; there had already been one devastating war, and it had cost Jenova her own sister.

"They are real, if that's what you're wondering," Aerith stepped into the room, putting business ahead of her. She stopped before the table of books, shortly afterwards joined by her matron.

"All four of them," Jenova said bitterly, as if incredulous that the four books had the nerve to remain. "They have not been united since their creation, and the birth of the universe."

The brunette nodded towards the goddess. "I trust you, my Queen, that you will use these for the good of Renne." With a wave of her hand, Aerith deactivated the potent protective spell that had been cast over the Tomes. For the course of almost five minutes, countless protective wards diminished. Field after field of light, layered and fortified on top of one another, bore the signature of magic of all the gods that had participated in the casting of the protective spells - Aerith's green aura was prominent, but also in the wards were the sapphire colors of Jhadia, a specialist in protective spells, and the black aura of Riku, the God of Thieves and Shadow.

Jenova suddenly smiled, looking at her granddaughter with a twinkle in her solid eyes. "Great effort was put into that spell. But unfortunately," the goddess suddenly grinned ferally, "I could have broken it in mere seconds."

The four books were suddenly hovering in the air before the two goddesses. Her attention now focusing towards the artifacts that held the spells that created life, Jenova spoke. "These artifacts have done more than create the universe," Jenova began. "They have caused the war that killed Andromeda. They have caused the war that destroyed much of this world, and countless other worlds along with it. Renne will not survive much longer, my dear."

Aerith met the eyes of her grandmother. "And what do you plan on doing with them?"

"I am going to destroy them," Jenova stated, like it was obvious. "But first," she paused, turning towards the coffin in the center of the room, "I am going to use them."

And with that, the fourth book opened by her will as it floated in the air. Aerith had never before seen the inside of any of the tomes, for the first-born had written them in the language of Chaos - known only to themselves. At Jenova's command, however, the text on the first page of the book morphed into Common.

There, written in large calligraphy in Jenova's own handwriting, stood a single word.

_Rebirth._

* * *

><p><em>To be continued…<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Please review and tell me what you likedidn't like/think? Without reviews, I cannot rack up enough fame and fortune to earn the money to purchase the rights to Axel and Roxas. And come on - how depressing is that? :-(**


	3. 3: Set in Motion

_**Chapter 3 ~ Set in Motion**_

_**IS MAGI PLURAL FOR MAGE? I DON'T KNOW! SO COMPLICATED! D8**_

…_**. Anyway. Two words: writer's block. REALLY bad writer's block. Yeah I know, shitty excuse, but still – it's hard to go somewhere when I **_**thought**_** I had an idea of where this story was going, but then I realized I was up-creek without a paddle **_(I sound like my southern family o.0)_**. So anyway, rest assured (I can tell you're all so relieved), I know where the story is going now, and I have journeyed deep into the caverns of my mind and have returned with the willpower necessary to write more often.**_

_**In other words: enjoy this chapter. The next one will be up soon.**_

**!WARNING! – rated 'M' for language and **_**(in later chapters)**_** gay smut. I can't wait. If I had my way I'd have people going at it like rabbits now, but alas – I'm too damn traditional, and have to wait for the stupid story to get to that point :/**

"_That. Was. Horrible_." Roxas Golding stated. His face deadpanned as he sat on the grass of the field. The boy was rubbing his clean face and arms as if he was getting grime off of them. Sewers, as to be expected, were nasty places. The two had walked – or in Roxas' case, ridden – through the conveniently located sidewalks along the river of waste for almost two hours. Despite never actually touching the slime, Roxas was still scrubbing himself just to be sure.

"Ah, come on Roxas," Axel urged him, shoving his side lightly, "I don't get a tip or anything? I came with my own upholstery!" The red-head appeared hurt.

Roxas rolled his eyes, shoving his companion in return. "You said it would only be an hour," the blond frowned. The two rested in the rolling plains south of Lorellia, where sunny farms dominated much of the landscape, saving the lines of paved roads.

"I said an hour by feet – I had something slowing me down, ya' know," Axel raised an eyebrow in defense. "Besides, don't complain: I got you out of Lorellia."

The Golding looked behind him, towards the north. There, governing the view in all its glory, was the mountain of Lorellia – and the towering city that was named after it. Its walls stretched high, yet since the city was built on the sides of the peak, its buildings could be seen. The poorer districts of the city, the ones Roxas had never been acquainted with (thankfully), were all that was to be seen, as the Orchid District and royal palace were on the northern-facing plateau.

The spires and towers stretched high, with the banners of the kingdom lining the entire sight – on flags, banners, and murals: a red and gold image of a tigress' head. The evening breeze was calming, and Roxas easily forgot his troubles as he sat with Axel, enjoying the fresh air.

"So," Axel started, a cheerful smile on his face, "where are you off to, exactly?"

The blonde winced slightly. _'Come on, Roxas,'_ he told himself, '_it's time to go on your own.'_

Getting to his feet, Roxas brushed his trousers off. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he said flatly, hoping that the red-head would get the hint, and he wouldn't have to use any _persuasion_ techniques again.

"I'm pretty sure I'd believe you, Rox."

Roxas sighed, looking away from Lorellia: to the southeast. "Rimptin."

Axel practically choked on his own spit.

"_What?_" Axel nearly shouted. He stood up, tall over the startled boy. "You left the capital of Renne to get to the kingdom that's been _at war_ with us for over four centuries?"

Roxas turned back towards his companion and glared. "That's none of your business."

The red-head snorted. "Maybe not, but you owe me for smuggling you out of Lorellia. What are you? A spy? Should I even let you leave the capital?"

"It's not like you could stop me," Roxas retaliated stubbornly.

"So you're just gonna find a boat and _expect_ the Rimptian navy to let you cross the Green Sea? Or were you planning on swimming?"

"I was _planning_ on figuring shit out when I had to." The blonde desperately wanted to flee away from Axel along the southern road – a path which led downwards into more rolling hills, and eventually, to the shore of the Green Sea.

Axel shook his head to himself, rubbing his temples. What was he even thinking? He didn't even _know_ Roxas that well. Not his family name, nor where he came from, or even why he needed to leave the city. He was still a stranger. He had given a _stranger_ a piggy-back ride out of Lorellia. And Leon would probably be worrying why his squire hadn't returned all day. Yuffie would be demanding why he took a break and left her with all of their duties.

Something didn't feel right to the red-head. He was feeling more and more light-headed, and was shocked when he abruptly realized that he had _been_ light-headed numerous times for the past two or three hours… ever since he saw the blonde boy in the streets of Lorellia.

'_Damn it,'_ Roxas mentally cursed himself as he felt the snap of a mental cord – again. This was the _seventh_ time the spell had failed. No matter how much he prepared Axel's mind for his domination magics, they just wouldn't take 'hold.

The red-head looked up at Roxas with a bewildered expression on his face. Something in his emerald eyes told the blonde that he knew something had come over him. _'How could that have failed?'_ The blonde was still amazed. He was an expert at mind-controlling lesser beings such as the squire. People were his puppets, for the Gods' sake. But somehow Axel had broken away from his hold after a mere few seconds.

"You…" Axel began, but couldn't grasp the right words from his brain.

Roxas turned away, towards the direction of the sea. With a flicker of his fingers, his golden aura flared to life around his hands - wisps of sun-colored smoke weaved its way through his fingers and up his arms, and filled the air with the smell of crisp cinnamon: sweet, yet fiery. His eyes, once sky blue, became clouded over with the same color of the smoke around his hands: a bright gold, gleaming in the sunlight.

When the mage spoke, his voice echoed out of sync as if there were many Roxas' talking at once. "Go back to Lorellia, Axel," he coaxed, "forget you even saw me."

Axel blinked. Unaware of the magic that was racing through his brain and corrupting it, twisting his own free will against him by the blonde's powerful voice, he abruptly felt a great need to turn towards the city. Roxas sighed, his aura diminishing and his eyes returning to their normal colorization. With nothing left to do, he pulled his eyes from the red-head and towards the south-east. He began walking down the road, opposite from Lorellia and in the direction of the sea.

Roxas wouldn't see the squire ever again, so he shouldn't have a reason to feel guilty that he had manipulated him from the start. Axel was an unimportant commoner, just a pawn in the events that were stirring under the world.

But if Axel was merely a pawn… why was Roxas' instinct telling him that he was much more than that?

"Where in _Garnon's_ name have you _been_?" Yuffie demanded, rising from her seat at her desk the minute Axel opened the door to their room. She was caught off-guard when she saw it wasn't Axel who walked in.

"Pack your things: we travel light," Leon told her, his gruff voice giving little information to play on, and his stoic expression not helping. He wasn't dressed in his typical casual outfit, but for battle. A tight-fitting leather shirt bore an enchanted underlay, Yuffie knew, that protected against the pierce of arrows and rapiers. His legs were covered in the same material, with straps and belts on him that held his sword and various small weapons. His brown hair was un-kept as usual, but it had always looked good that way – not that he was attempting to look good. Though Yuffie couldn't help but notice how he looked much better than he usually did before a quest.

The petite girl looked perplexed as she _huff_'ed and blew a strand of black hair out of her face. "What are you talking about, Leon?"

"Scouts have reported that two boys were captured a mile or so south of the city walls," the knight explained as he walked further into the room to help Yuffie pack her things.

"By who?" The raven-haired girl asked, somewhat annoyed at this menial task that demanded so much haste – shouldn't the city's _guard_ be attending a matter like this? She hopped towards her wardrobe, pulling out some light clothes and throwing them on the bed. She threw Leon a thin chain mail tunic after he had pulled out a leather backpack.

"Bandits," he responded curtly, "or pirates. We're not exactly sure. Our scouts tried to pursue them, but it was almost as if the captors disappeared into thin air."

"Yeah, so? Why is a Knight of the Realm being sent after two guys? There's a whole sect of the city's guard for that. Or send a squire," she protested as she crossed her arms, before quickly adding "one that's not me." The girl might have questioned the situation, but she knew better than to question Leon's orders; she was already fully packed, strapping her broadsword to her side in her preferred civilian clothing. Her black hair was tied in a ponytail behind her, and her athletic physique was displayed quite well as most of her arms, stomach, and legs were shown. Axel accused her of being a whore – she defended herself by insisting it allowed her to move lighter.

Leon placed the chain mail into Yuffie's backpack before stopping and turning to the girl. "One of them was Roxas Golding – one of the two heirs to the Golding estate, and the son of our Constable. The other boy was Axel."

"Oh." The girl's eyes widened a bit, but otherwise she hid her surprise well. Why was _Axel_ a mile away from the city? And why in Jenova's name would anyone kidnap him?

"You're ready," Leon stated flatly. He already had his small pack with him, slung over his shoulders. "Come on."

Yuffie picked up her pack and walked briskly to catch up with her senior Knight, who was already down the hall towards the great hall of the barracks. Lorellia had three barracks' stationed throughout three of the city's districts; the _Hall of Knights_ was the most prestigious and luxurious of the three, as it housed the greatest of the realm's knights who were still employed by Renne's military. That is, those that weren't retired and living in lavish estates that dominated multiple blocks of the city's wealthy neighborhoods.

As they walked into the great hall, Yuffie had to push past hordes of people to keep up with her senior. The feasting hall was filled with knights, squires, servants, barmaids, and all sorts of other tavern-folk, dining on mounds of greasy food and filling themselves with mead and ale. Many faces were familiar to the girl, as she was popular among her fellow squires and 'hopefuls' as they were referred to, yet no one called out merrily to her. The expression on her usually cheerful face was grim as she pushed through the crowds. _'Damn, Leon's excited to be somewhere, much?'_

At last they crossed the crowded room, and walked through the large doors leading into the courtyards. The twin suns were setting, casting the evening in a crimson ambience. The bustle of the city was still active, yet was quieting down as people ventured indoors for supper. _'So this is a night operation,'_ Yuffie thought, mentally grinning. _'Perfect.'_ The most pleasurable of tasks were always performed at night.

"We depart for Aeritha Reach. We should arrive around dawn if we do not stop," Leon said, thankfully slowing down a bit as they walked towards the gates leading from the barracks to the city's walls.

"Why Aeritha Reach? Did the bandits really travel _that_ far with them hostage?"

Leon glanced at his squire, his brown eyes solemn. "They managed. And they're somewhere along the shoreline, I presume. They bore the banners of Rimptin."

Yuffie spluttered for air. "_Rimptin_?" her voice pitched, "why would Rimptin be in the heart of our kingdom? And why would they kidnap those two?" She followed her Knight into the walls of Lorellia, before coming out on the other side into the evening air. Much to her irritation, her question was not answered. Had it been a Saturday night, when squires were off-duty and intoxicated, she would be more loud – like usual. Various tents and camps were set up all along the walls of Lorellia – the homes of several mercenaries and skirmishers. The raven-haired girl was too busy watching the merriment and festivities that were happening with envious eyes, unaware of the man that was now standing before Leon and herself. She stopped abruptly before running into him, giving a small yelp as she jumped back.

The man was much taller than the girl, yet about an inch or so shorter than Leon. His golden hair was spiked and slightly bed-ridden. He was wearing a tight-fitting battle garb similar to Yuffie's own – black cloth against his chest, with leather straps bearing various buckles and mounted daggers. A hard shoulder-pad protected his left shoulder, with a silver head of a snarling beast attached. His face was slightly boyish, though he looked to be in his early thirties, with slim but firm muscle showing through his bare right arm and neckline. She had seen the man countless times before, but he always in some fine garments – not dressed for scouting.

"Sir Leon," the man said, nodding his head towards the brunette, "and the ever-gleaming Yuffie," he nodded towards the girl. His mouth turned into a slight smile. He saluted them in the typical Renne fashion.

"Constable Golding," Leon returned the salute by pressing his fist to his chest. Yuffie quickly did the same. "Constable," she bowed her head.

"You've not called me by _that_ name in a while, Leon," the man said, causing Yuffie to look curiously between the two men. The blond man rose an eyebrow, a hint of teasing twinkling in his eyes.

"Cloud," Leon mended, nodding his head towards the golden-haired man. When she thought she saw a hint of a smile on Leon's face, she decided she'd consider appealing Axel's constant demands to check herself into Lorellia's asylum. Maybe she'd even be in the rooms next to her mother. Or uncle.

"I'm coming with you. My son's out there, and I don't plan on reasoning," Cloud stated matter-of-factly, his chin raised slightly. With a grunt, Leon muttered something under his breath, but walked past their superior towards the road to Aeritha Reach.

"Constable," Yuffie nodded politely yet again towards the Golding lord, before starting after her Knight. _'Kindness sucks,'_ she concluded. But kissing ass was tolerable, at least.

"Nonsense," he insisted, the broadsword strapped to his back mirroring hers as he walked beside the girl. "We're in the field together now, Yuffie; call me Cloud."

When Axel awoke, the world was rocking.

No, literally. He must've been on a boat of some sort… with a very bad driver.

With a groan, he tried his best to steady his head with his hands, but hanging it did no good for his headache. Hazy visions of him and Yuffie having too much in the taverns of Lorellia came back to him; but it wasn't the drinking that he felt like now – it was the hangover.

He didn't remember much. He had been walking towards Lorellia when something had hit him from behind. The blow didn't do much but startle him, but before he could turn around another one was delivered strategically to the back of his neck, and he was unconscious. But if he was near Lorellia, in the heart of the mainland, how could he have stayed asleep during the journey to the sea? The nearest seashore was at least half a day's journey away, and Axel had always been a strong fighter even against concussions.

Roxas. Axel was hit with waves of memories from earlier that day – or yesterday? – when he had helped the boy out of the city, only to realize that he had been controlled the entire time. So Roxas was a mage? He certainly didn't look like one. He was much too young, his skin too tight and his limbs agile.

Looking up to survey his surroundings with blood-shot eyes, Axel saw that he was in a jail of some sort – the room was divided down the median by thick iron bars with a door in the center. On the other side was a built-in ladder leading to a trap-door in the ceiling and a large desk with various papers, trinkets, and coffee stains. A large wooden chest sat heavily beside the stairs.

Part of Axel wasn't that surprised when he saw Roxas sitting against the wall across from him with his knees hiding his face; he was in the cell as well. All that could be seen to identify him was his small stature and spiky blonde hair. The boy's head rose up as if he could feel Axel's eyes glancing over his form. Blue eyes fluttered open.

"You're awake," he croaked, clearing his throat soon after. His voice was tired and exhausted, and though his sparkling eyes sent peaceful shivers down Axel's spine, they looked as if he had just come back from the dead.

"Where are we?" Axel asked hesitantly. His head spun as the ship clashed against a wave, and for a moment he thought he would stain the floor with the vile in his stomach. His _empty_ stomach.

Roxas averted his gaze from the red-head. "On a ship bound for Rimptin. We're being held hostage. Or _I_ am, at least. They jumped me just before they got you; I would've kept them off of you, but they had a mage."

Narrowed eyes, dark green in the lighting, suddenly watched Roxas intently. He could feel a tingle across his skin wherever Axel's eyes looked at him.

"That's what you are. A mage," Axel accused.

The boy winced slightly. "Look, I know Lorellians have a bad history with magic-" Axel briskly cut him off.

"All of _Renne_ has a bad history with magic," he corrected. "The entire kingdom's been through countless wars against magi since we were first manipulated by them – just like you manipulated me."

"Axel, all I did was _influence _your actions – I didn't _make_ you do anything. I had no choice," The Golding protested. "No one else would've helped me out of Lorellia. I would've been sent back home."

The red-head breathed out slowly, trying to calm down. "You owe me an explanation. Lots of them."

Roxas' eyes met Axel's. The boy gave a long sigh, closing the blue portals into his mind in thought.

"My name is Roxas Golding. I'm the son of Cloud Golding." At this, the squire blinked. Was it coincidence that Roxas was the son of the commander of the Lorellian military? He didn't dare interrupt the boy – this was already getting interesting.

"Being a student of magic in the heart of a kingdom that despises it isn't easy, and my true self has been confined to the walls of the Golding estate. My master was once a mage of the Rimptin royal court, and has personally trained me since I was a small child.

"Something is… not right in the world," Roxas' tone suddenly changed to uncertainty and hesitation. His lips pursed, and his brow furrowed.

"What do you mean?" Axel inquired, no longer resentful towards the boy. It sounded like Roxas knew more than enough information to ever live a normal life, and the squire could relate to that.

Again, Roxas turned his head away. "It's… complicated. Like a premonition that all magi have been feeling for the past twenty years or so. Deep down in the world's history, something's stirring… awakening. But it's not just a feeling," blue eyes turned back towards Axel. "Things have been happening. Magi have been disappearing. Not lesser ones: sorcerers that hold high seats in Crystallix Council."

"Crystallix Council?"

Roxas slowly brought himself to his feet. He still looked fatigued, but his eyes had taken on an energetic quality. "The _council_ of the Crystallix Court is made of the greatest sorcerers from all across the world," Roxas explained. "The entire court is convening, though – more than a hundred magi gathered in one place, holding convention as to what this threat is. Magic is amplified in numbers, and when there are that many magical beings in one place, everyone's abilities are amplified."

"The court's using everyone's amplified magic to try and find out about the darkness that's growing," Axel guessed, finishing Roxas' thought for him. This sounded like a fairytale, Axel had to admit, but it was convention that he knew magic was not something to underestimate.

The mage nodded. "The entire court hasn't met together in eight centuries – or so my master tells me. He is sending me to the Crystallix Court on his behalf."

It made sense now – the red-head didn't like it one bit, but at least it made sense. The very reason Renne had been at war with Rimptin for millennia was because of their direct contradictions. Renne was a land of fortune and wealth for all its denizens; Rimptin was poor and filled with nomads and gypsies. Rennaens hated magic, whereas nearly every Rimptian was magically gifted – or so legend had it.

"Who brought us here?" Axel scratched his head – if he caught fleas here, he would be _pissed_.

Roxas shrugged, standing meekly in the center of the cell. "I'm not sure. Somehow they knew who I was before they got us… they tried to get information out of me a while ago while you were asleep, but I resisted." It didn't take long for the squire to notice the tears in Roxas' tunic – hiding behind them were thin lines of red. He had been cut by their captors.

"You're hurt," Axel frowned. "Sit down."

Roxas complied, but only because he was _exhausted_. "It's no use," he countered, "I healed the deeper gashes, but there's nothing I can do for the smaller ones." _'So that's why he looks so tired,'_ Axel reasoned. It was anyone's guess, but it made sense that using magic would deplete your energy.

Without warning, hands grasped Roxas' shoulders, turning him softly towards them. Axel peered at some of the scars around the boy's neck and chest, moving the light fabric apart when needed. He ignored the blonde's flushing face. "This one looks infected," the red-head frowned as he brushed his fingers lightly over one of the cuts. Roxas stifled a whimper as his body tensed up. His eyes winced.

"It's okay," he objected, pulling away from Axel's hold as his face started to return itself to its normal coloration. Axel decided not to call him back; the blonde could probably take care of it after his energy recharged anyway, right?

Roxas had walked towards the metal bars, and grasped two of them with his delicate hands. The mage closed his eyes, and for a moment he just stood there.

"What are you doing?" Axel asked as he rose himself to meet the boy. His head ached in protest.

"_We_ are escaping," Roxas answered, as if it were obvious. "You honestly think I'm going to let _bandits_ keep me captive?" Axel rose an eyebrow, admiring the boy's sudden fieriness.

"And what do you plan on doing _after_ we get out of this cell?"

"We take out whoever else is on this ship. There are some weapons in that chest over there," the boy nodded across the room on the other side of the bars, "I can sense iron in them. Crude, but it'll have to do until we find some more."

The red-head blinked at the speed of which Roxas was operating at – already he had sprung to his feet and walked across the jail-cell despite his worn-out appearance. "Are you sure you're alright to be breaking out right now?"

His question was apparently ignored. When smoke the color of the yellow sun began to wisp off of Roxas' hands, and the smell of cinnamon filled the air, Axel became uneasy. "You're not going to control my mind again, are you?"

"No – you broke through my spell. You'll be able to tell if I enter your mind again," the blonde impatiently assured him. "This is my _aura_. It's the source of my magic." And with that, Roxas' golden aura burst to life around his entire body. The room was illuminated in a magnificent warming shine, all radiating from the Golding boy. Shielding his eyes from the bright light, Axel could barely make out what the boy was doing. The noble's hands had become white, and as soon as he heard the sizzling of heat and saw thick black tendrils of smoke emitting from the iron bars, Axel realized that Roxas was melting the jail wall.

After a few moments, enough of the bars had been melted to allow Roxas and Axel to escape. "Careful," Roxas warned, his voice echoing as it had last time he conjured his aura in Axel's presence. He walked through the opening, and his aura began to diminish as it receded back into his physical body, plunging the room back into darkness save the lone candle on the desk. "The bars are still hot."

As if to make the boy's point, a bit of the iron bar closest to Roxas dripped molten metal down to the wooden floor. Axel swallowed.

**PLEASE leave a review if you liked this story/chapter/mysexytext! :) **

**Hell, if you didn't like any of that I'd still be happy with a review… at least I'll know I wasted some of your time! **_**t(^-^t)**_

**The next chapter should be up soon – I already have most of it written, it's just a matter of editing (and since I'm a perfectionist, or like to think I am, it takes a while).**


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